It’s hard work and the pay is low, but at least you get to hang out with a bunch of nasty, bitter people. So I took the job. The first week I thought I’d die. I couldn’t stop my hands from bleeding, and my legs could barely hold me up. The second week my eyes were blurred and I couldn’t keep my food down. By the fourth week I was beginning to like it. I felt strong. After a year I felt nothing. I didn’t know my name, I didn’t know where I was. Whatever it was I was supposed to do got done, but I don’t know how. Then I met Deidre in the cafeteria and she said, “Mr. President, you’re doing a great job.” “What did you call me?” I said. “Mr. President,” she said. “How time pisses away,” I said. “I can hear the birdies singing.” My eye was on the jello.